Chapter 44
“Lord Clive, you’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”
Claire didn’t recall any scene of Clive being injured. But still, just in case, she asked out of worry.
Russell replied heartily,
“Clive is perfectly fine. He did get a bit wet, but he’s not the sort to catch a cold from that.”
Daisy crossed her arms and objected.
“He may look fine on the outside, but not inside. He seemed really angry.”
“Because of Hector?”
“No, because of Miss Claire.”
“Because of me?”
Startled at the unexpected words, Claire looked at Daisy. Russell gave Daisy a nudge on the arm.
“Why would Clive be angry because of Miss Claire? Don’t say nonsense.”
“Nonsense?”
Daisy glared at him, but Russell, unfazed, pushed her out the door.
When he returned after sending Daisy out without much resistance, Claire was standing there looking downcast.
“Clive was very worried about you.”
“I’m sorry for causing worry.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Miss Claire. It’s Hector who should be.”
“You keep mentioning Hector… who is he?”
At Claire’s cautious question, Russell hesitated.
“The truth is, I’m the aide to His Highness the First Prince.”
“What?”
Claire asked again in shock. She had thought he had come to Shudehill looking for work, so his words surprised her.
“Do you remember the incident years ago when His Highness was scammed? Even the national treasury was involved—it caused an uproar.”
Listening to Russell’s explanation, Claire vaguely remembered.
The uproar had been particularly bad because the budget allocated for relief work had been used in the scam.
“Yes, I remember.”
“That swindler was Hector Parker. The very same man who tried to harm you.”
After being absent for a whole day, Clive reappeared, looking deeply displeased.
Ed handed him the report he had obtained yesterday from the Third Division of Public Safety.
“This is from the Third Division.”
While Clive read through it, Ed quietly waited.
“Informant: Gedin West.
Remembered visiting Dolores Turner’s boyfriend.
Max Davies. Brown hair, tall but slim. Quiet.
Supposedly working as an apprentice tailor.”
An apprentice tailor?
Clive tapped the desk twice with his index and middle fingers and kept reading.
“While picking a book at a bookstore, heard someone call out ‘Max Davies.’
Remembered it was the name of Dolores Turner’s boyfriend.
Checked the man’s face but it was someone else.
Thought it must be a namesake.”
“It’s true a man named Max Davies once worked as an apprentice at a tailor shop on Clipperton Street,” Ed explained.
“Really?”
“One day, a death notice suddenly arrived. The funeral was held in his hometown, so no one here could attend. We sent officers to the hometown address written on his résumé.”
“When did that obituary arrive?”
“Two years ago.”
Ed then handed him another report, this time from the Second Division.
“When Edelweiss was closed late at night, a white-haired man was seen leaving the shop.
Witness: an elderly woman living nearby.
She admitted it was dark, so she might have been mistaken, but she believed he was young.”
Attached was the woman’s brief information and a note suggesting they investigate possible albino suspects.
Clive tapped the desk twice again.
“It’s certain Hector Parker killed the perfumer.”
He placed the report down.
The heads of each division had probably either been too busy to report sooner or wanted to gather more evidence first.
As a result, their report came belatedly.
Now, with the division chiefs busy interrogating Hector and investigating related suspects, Ed was left to gauge Clive’s mood.
Watching Clive lost in thought, Ed carefully spoke.
“It seems Hector Parker chose Max Davies because their height and build were similar.”
Clive leaned back in his chair, meeting Ed’s eyes.
Ed felt a chill run down his spine under the violet gaze of his superior. He averted his eyes and adjusted his glasses.
“It’s highly likely Hector Parker killed Max Davies.”
“We’re interrogating him about it, but he refuses to say a word.”
They had caught Hector Parker the day before yesterday. Yesterday, Clive had been absent.
During that day without Clive, they should have achieved some progress.
But even now, Hector Parker only cackled and laughed, giving no answers at all.
Though it wasn’t Ed’s fault—nor that of Lyndon and Lynette, who had taken turns questioning him—he still felt crushed under the pressure.
Clive, withdrawing his gaze from Ed, sank into thought again.
It was said Hector could perfectly imitate other people’s handwriting, but that was based solely on Joan Pope’s testimony.
And she was the very first to accuse him of Gareth’s murder.
It was undeniable Hector produced flawless forgeries, but handwriting forgery was not something previously attested.
The only relief was that there was a witness who saw him leaving the perfume shop where the perfumer had been killed.
But proving the murder happened at the same time Hector was seen leaving was difficult.
And Hector could easily use the old woman’s poor eyesight in his defense.
The only thing certain—he had been caught red-handed trying to kill Claire.
That was the part that weighed most heavily on Clive.
It was said Clive had come to work today. But he didn’t appear all morning.
Lynette had expected him to go straight to see Hector Parker the moment he arrived.
Perplexed, she ate a quick sandwich for lunch, then went back down to the underground interrogation room.
The thought of resuming the fruitless questioning made her sigh. Torture wasn’t an option, after all.
“You’re here.”
Hearing Scott greet someone, Lynette turned—and saw Clive.
She almost joked that the day of rest had done him well.
But though he looked no different from usual at a glance, the sharp glint in his eyes made any jest impossible. She kept her greeting brief and fell silent.
Scott, too, seemed tense, sensing the atmosphere.
Clive had left Rotta Park with the woman who almost became Hector’s last victim, then taken an unannounced day off.
Ed had claimed it was because he got drenched in the rain and wasn’t feeling well, but everyone knew that was just an excuse.
Since becoming Chief of Public Safety, Clive had never once skipped work without cause.
Besides, they had all been in the rain that day—and everyone else was fine.
Surely, he must have had another reason.
Clive gave Lynette and Scott a slight nod before sitting down in an empty chair.
“Where is Sir Lyndon?”
“He went to eat. Said he wouldn’t starve because of that bastard.”
Clive nodded lightly.
“I heard they found a large quantity of sleeping pills in Hector Parker’s residence.”
“That’s right.”
Lynette wrinkled her nose.
“Since the vagrants had sleeping pills in their system, that must be his doing as well.”
From Clive’s expression, Lynette understood one reason for his low spirits: the rage of being toyed with by a single man.
“Is Hector Parker eating now?”
Lynette checked the time.
“Probably.”
“How is he?”
Lynette answered in a displeased tone.
“He eats well and sleeps well. Shameless bastard.”
Clive kept his eyes on the floor, blinking a few times before lifting his head again.
“I’d like to see him now.”
“I’ll bring him right away. He should be finished eating.”
Scott quickly left the room.
Normally, Lynette would have tried to strike up some light conversation. But sensing Clive’s sharp mood, she kept her mouth shut.
Soon, Hector’s voice rang out from outside the door.
“I told you, I won’t say anything! Aren’t you bored of this yet?”
His voice carried a mocking lilt.
Having endured this since last night, Lynette shivered with loathing just from hearing him.
Even as he entered, Hector kept grinning and babbling—until he saw Clive. Then he fell silent.
Like a polite schoolteacher, he walked over quietly and sat opposite Clive.
“Hello.”
He smiled as though genuinely pleased.
“Have we met before?”
Clive had heard the name Max Davies countless times and even seen the photo attached to the case files.
But had they ever met in person?
The same with Hector Parker—he had known the name but never seen him face to face.
“You’re the friend of Russell McDowell, the First Prince’s aide, aren’t you?”
Had the matter of selling forged goods to the Crown Prince been raised during interrogation?
Lynette met Clive’s eyes and shook her head.
With a cold face, Clive asked,
“Did you approach Lady Isabel on purpose?”
Hector leaned back, still smiling, and replied playfully,
“Maybe?”
The reason Russell was sent was because he and Hector had never met before.
They had painstakingly tracked down Hector’s hidden trail, and Russell had secretly come to Shudehill.
With help from his cousin Daisy, he had posed as if visiting Selsmore Manor.
A small article had appeared in a paper, but it mistakenly said Baron Walker’s siblings had visited.
Not entirely false, since they were cousins—but Russell McDowell’s name was nowhere.
It was also calculated that pretending to be a noble would make it easier to approach Clive.
But Hector had seen through all of it.
He had even deliberately approached the woman Russell liked.
“Call Russell McDowell for me.”
“You are currently being investigated for the murder of Gareth Stanley, the kidnapping and assault of Gemma Taylor, and the killings of three vagrants.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“And you were caught red-handed trying to kill Claire Doherty.”
“That one I’ll admit.”
His smiling face made Clive feel sick.
Clive shoved the desk aside and kicked Hector’s knee.
